Nothing

About Nothing

Nothing started in Philadelphia around 2010, though calling it a clean start isn't quite right. Vocalist and guitarist Domenic Palermo had just gotten out of prison for aggravated assault and stabbing, serving two years of a five-year sentence. He'd been in hardcore bands before that, but Nothing became something different—a way to channel all that heaviness into sound instead of violence.

The band's early lineup shifted around Palermo, eventually solidifying with bassist Nick Bassett from Whirr, which tells you something about the sonic territory they were mapping. They called it shoegaze, but that label only gets you halfway there. Nothing took the wall-of-sound thing from My Bloody Valentine and Slowdive, then dragged it through something darker and more claustrophobic. The vocals sit buried in the mix like someone mumbling truths they're not sure they want heard.

Their 2014 debut "Guilty of Everything" announced them as a band that understood how to make beauty feel oppressive. "Hymn to the Pillory" and "Dig" became immediate reference points for anyone trying to explain what millennial shoegaze could sound like when it stopped being so polite about its influences. The production was thick enough to get lost in, but the songs underneath had actual structure, actual hooks.

"Tired of Tomorrow" came out in 2016 and showed growth without abandoning what worked. The title track and "ACD" proved they could write songs that felt simultaneously massive and intimate. Palermo's lyrics stayed oblique but personal, dealing with mortality and depression without turning it into theater. The album was recorded after he'd been attacked and stabbed outside a show in Oakland, nearly dying. That context hangs over the record whether you know it or not.

By 2018's "Dance on the Blacktop," they'd added more industrial textures and harsher production. Songs like "Blue Mecca" and "Us/We/Are" leaned into repetition and noise in ways that felt less like shoegaze and more like controlled chaos. Some fans missed the dreamier elements, but the evolution made sense for a band that never seemed interested in comfort.

"The Great Dismal" arrived in 2020, and the title wasn't subtle. It was their clearest production yet, which somehow made everything feel even more desolate. Tracks like "Say Less" and "Famine Asylum" stripped back some of the noise to let the melodies breathe, proving they could do restraint when they wanted to.

They're still active, still touring, still refining this thing they do where pretty and punishing occupy the same space. Palermo's story—the violence, the prison time, the near-death experience—sits in the background of everything Nothing does, but the music never leans on it. The sound is the statement. Everything else is just context.

Nothing shows are loud and immersive in a way that feels more like standing in a storm than watching a performance. The crowd tends to be quiet and focused rather than cheering, drawn into the wall of sound. Palermo doesn't interact much—he's focused on the music, creating an atmosphere that's intense without being theatrical.

Known for Bent, Don't Start, A Quick One Before the Eternal Worm Devours Connecticut, Vertigo

See Nothing Live